Coincidence Much? [Francis]

[captainkyosai]

It was one of those days: Iain was simply wandering around because he was bored out of his mind. Like, really bored. Unfortunately for him he already did a good portion of his homework and decided to do the more… ‘complicated’ work (as in creative writing) later – or never, whatever strikes his fancy.

Sure, he does like writing, but the ginger wasn’t in a mood to be writing anything. Be it suspense, romantic, or just the average ‘LET THE SCOTTISH PRIDE SHINE THROUGH IN EVERY PIECE OF WRITING’. Yes, he does have nothing to write about and he still doesn’t feel like writing at all. It was a Friday and there’s nothing to do aside from going out to… Well, it’s not like one can simply play curling or go cycling. Not that he has a bike with him – but there’s only no pleasant place for him to go cycling at. The forest? As much as he likes forests, it’s still wet. November leaves and wet, soggy ground does not go well with bike wheels.

What else to do? He doesn’t feel like cooking or baking. Even if he did, he wasn’t hungry – the food would just be wasted. (Who would want to eat his cooking anyway?) If the lounge had a snooker table, he would play it. The best way to win these cue games was to think about reflection, and when were reflections hard for the Scotsman? Hm… on the off topic, it’s a shame for Stephan Hendry to have retired from playing snooker. … Actually, maybe he should try to get a billiard table in the lounge – it’ll make it feel more… ‘homey’ in a way for Iain.

Yeah… make it homey. Strange really – his old partner was very… energetic – both in a literal sense. For one, he would never shut his infuriating gob. Two, he kept on shocking everyone with electricity. All of the papers would stick to him and that bastard even took his journal of oh so terrible poems. What was worse, his brother was would be simply horrified of thunder storms and his partner was the embodiment of it…

Iain sighed – hm… His partner’s brother… now he was different even if he was Canadian. The lad had asked him to stay in the forsaken château for the whole weekend because of some bet he lost. He could have said no – he had asthma and saying in an old house in the middle of the woods were dust bunnies were the size of a head? Not the greatest idea – hell, his brain had told him to say no… Yet he couldn’t bring himself to actually refuse. From Friday afternoon to Sunday morning, he suffered (okay that was stretching it, but… you know.) in that mansion and he regretted even saying yes to such a stupid request. He could have ignored him, like he did with most problems that probably won’t go away – like Mathias for example. Thinking about it now, made him think that he too stood before the supposedly haunted house and thought why he even said fine in the first place. He still didn’t know the answer to it.

In honest truth, he probably did miss the brothers, Iain’s partner was… he could have been more quiet at times, yet the other…

He wasn’t sure, but from all of the times he spent with Iain – there was always a little smile on the other’s face. Was his company that how would he say it… pleasant for him?

Okay, let’s just stop the trip down memory lane. At the moment, Iain’s fine with having no partner – almost relieved in a way.

His thoughts wandered and swim in his mind, making the ginger not pay much attention to where he was going. He was doing those automatic turns and steps – it almost looked like he knew where he was going, yet he never had in mind there to go to next. This only continued until he literally walked into someone – perhaps a bit too hard.

“Sorry.” That was his response until he looked at whom he roughly walked into. “…” He wasn’t even sure what to say really.

[Deleted]

It was a rather boring day.

There wasn’t anything interesting occurring. Gilbert and Antonio were off doing something (maybe even productive for once), Romano didn’t want to spend time with him (which was unfortunately understandable) and Arthur wasn’t anywhere to be found (which wasn’t exactly surprising). Francis really had nothing to do except to linger about in the hallways. His homework was far from complete, but he tended to procrastinate, and this day was no different. Normally, he would take a walk outside, perhaps in the woods, but it was far too wet and dreary today for his tastes. So instead, he found himself ghosting along, nobody paying attention to him and he paying attention to nobody.

He concentrated mainly on the floor; it was a rather interesting one. Francis liked to look at the patterns in most anything he could find, and the Academy’s tiled floor often caught his attention. The colors made a unique path for him to follow. It was a strange quirk of his.

The French senior kept his eyes trained on the specifically arranged multi-colored tiles, absentmindedly wondering where it would lead him. Nowhere that would get him in trouble, hopefully.

He really hadn’t been paying attention, or otherwise he would’ve recognized a pair of oncoming feet and avoided a collision. But instead, he hadn’t, and therefore crashed into someone else.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Francis automatically said, smiling, and then glanced up to see a familiar head of red hair. It was then when he realized the person he had bumped into with was none other than Iain Kirkland, one of his childhood friends and Arthur's elder brother. He had met him while the other had been visiting Paris with his family, they had exchanged contact information (despite being rather young), and had become what Americans usually called ‘pen pals’. They had stayed in touch over the long years, and it had been more than surprising to find out that Iain also was one who was gifted with an ability.

“Bonjour, Iain~!” His smile stretched into a wide grin, and he had automatically greeted the other senior in French without quite registering it. Iain was one of the people he was comfortably with switching into his native language, and sometimes he liked to in a case where his fellow conversational partner would be irritated by his dramatic usage of the randomly thrown in words (specifically, Arthur). It amused him to no end. “It has been a while, oui? How are you, hm?”

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((It's a perfectly amazing starting post! Okay, um, I hope I managed to get what we said for their history right (because I can't seem to remember) and as for their relationship... I'm going to need to explore it a bit more. I'll probably ask you a few more questions about it later. ^^ Sorry... I also mentioned Arthur like three times why))

[captainkyosai]

"Oh, my apologies." That came in reply after his quickly reply of a sorry and soon the other found out who it was he bumped into.

Yes, Francis Bonnefoy - original residence of France, and the two met in Paris during the Kirkland family trip. That trip was very enjoyable - the food was absolutely better than the mush and other adjectives that describe the usual dinner the children of the Kirkland's were forced to eat. In fact, he even brought home some cooking techniques he learned over the trip. As much as a child he was at the time, he certainly knew about to cook. Wasn't it common for children to start learning how to cook from their mother? It would start with helping her get the plates, bowls, towels, bags of vegetables, and packages of meat. Then it get's more complicated as a child would be asked to clean some vegetables and prepare the meat.

Yet, he did bring from cooking techniques home and that's pretty much all you need to know.

"Bonjour, Iain~!" The other said with a wide grin on his face as the ginger smiled back. Yeah, the two of them are pretty good friends, during the Paris trip and even after. Yet it was surprising to see the blond here - did everyone he knew gained a power or something? Besides, he was used to the french words and phrases thrown around randomly - and in truth, he did learn a little bit of French (though mediocre but understandable enough) so the conversations between the two would be 'smoother'.

"Awrite there, Francis." Iain greeted, though not sounding as much as enthusiastic as his friend, but his expression says otherwise. He always greet people in his Scottish slang and whatnot that always tipped people over, but he really doesn't mind. He would usually have to explain what the hell he's saying, but no, Francis was different.

"It' has been a while, oui? How are you, hm?"

"It has bin a while an' Ah'm doing fine." Yeah, 'fine'. He's bored out of his mind - it's almost everyday he's facing this petty fear of being bored. He hates it, but no point in telling his little problem actually. "What about ye? When did ye get here?" Since he hadn't even seen the Frenchman until now, where was he all this time exactly?

[Deleted]

Francis wondered exactly how he had never noticed Iain was attending Asher Academy. He thought he had seen at least a glimpse of the Scotsman in the hallways; he knew almost everyone in the school. Or maybe he had seen him before, but had subconsciously disregarded the possibility of him being there. He would never know.

"It has bin a while an' Ah'm doing fine. What about ye? When did ye get here?"

To be entirely honest, Iain didn’t seem ‘fine’ to Francis. He seemed to be in desperate need of entertainment, or at least something to do. He smiled. He would be happy to oblige.

”I am well, merci!” He replied, beaming. He liked to throw in bits of French, as often as he could, most usually not wanting to irritate the person he was conversing with. And even though it had been quite a long time, Francis felt as if Iain wouldn’t mind. ”Oh, moi? I have been here since ninth grade – I believe it is called a, er,” he searched for the right word, “oh! A freshman, oui, that is it! And it has been, hm, four years now! This is my last year.” He was relieved, and saddened all the same by this. He would certainly miss Asher Academy – although, he can say for certain he won’t miss a few particular people.

He peered at the redhead again, now curious. ”What about you, mon cher? How long have you been here? I do not recall ever seeing you!”

And it wasn’t really that large of a school either. It was quite miraculous they hadn’t met up before. Francis wondered how they had run into each other today, when they had never previously. It just seemed so strange.

Why now of all days?